


got fire in your veins

by bevcrushers (dothraloki)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Claustrophobia, F/F, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/bevcrushers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: trapped in a turbolift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got fire in your veins

 “Why would they create these things without an emergency exit?” says Tasha as she paces around the circumference of the turbolift again.

Deanna watches her from her position of the floor, legs curled beneath her.

“It doesn't make any sense, it seems like something they should've thought of.”

“I don't know,” Deanna says. “It doesn't matter, we'll be out soon enough. You heard, Engineering's working on it.”

Tasha pays her barely any notice and bangs her fist on the unyeilding doors. “Damn it.”

“Tasha,” Deanna ventures gently, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's just,” Tasha huffs out a breath and pushes a hand through her hair. “I don't like it.”

“What?”

“Being in closed off areas like this, it's too,” she pauses, searching for a word. “It makes me jittery.”

It makes perfect sense, Deanna thinks, and she's almost annoyed that she didn't realise it sooner.

“It's okay.”

“I know!” Tasha snaps, and there's enough bite in it that if Deanna were anyone else she might've taken a step back, might've shut up, but that's not her modus operandi and Tasha knows it. She takes a deep slow breath, composes herself. “Sorry.”

Deanna nods to herself, and with slow, deliberate steps approaches Tasha, holding out a hand towards her. Tasha looks hesistant for a moment or two, and Deanna can see her warring with herself, until eventually she takes it, clasps it tight.

“We'll be out,” Deanna says, tone firm but calm, fingers stroking over the top of Tasha's hand. “Geordi and the others, they're going to get us out soon enough, you know what they're like.”

“I know,” Tasha says. “I must look like such an idiot, panicking like this.”

“You don't. Claustrophobia is a common thing.”

Tasha snorts. “You sound like such a counsellor.”

“I _am_ a counsellor,” Deanna affects indignation. “And as _your_ consellor I'm telling you to breathe, slowly, in and out.”

Tasha takes a seat on the floor and Deanna follows her, careful not to let go of her hand. “Distract me, talk to me about something. Your first crush.”

Deanna laughs. “Well. I was ten, he was thirteen. I met him on a trip to one of the holiday planets. He had red hair, I thought he told the funniest jokes - best I'd ever heard.”

Tasha smiles.

“One night we sat by the pool and he listened to me talk for two whole hours without saying anything – I remember thinking _what a thing it was that he listened to me_ – nobody really listened to me then. You've met my mother,” Deanna allows a smile, wry smile. “When I went to bed that night, I thought I was in love. Then of course, a couple of weeks later we had to leave and go back to Betazed. I never thought I'd recover.”

Tasha's looking at her sideways, her hand clasps tighter around Deanna's.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Tasha starts. “Well, I don't remember the first. There was a girl, though, when I was about fifteen – She was so tough and so sure of herself, she protected us all. There was probably an element of hero worship about it.”

Tasha's grip relaxes but their fingers are still entwined. “I don't know what happened to her. Probably dead.” Deanna swallows at that – she's never gotten over the measured casualness of Tasha's tone, always careful to mask geniuine feeling.

“Maybe not. You never know.”

“Maybe not,” Tasha echoes. “I don't really think about it much, not anymore, only situations like this tend to trigger it.”

Deanna nods. “It's only natural.”

“It makes me feel like a freak,” says Tasha, bluntly. “Or it would. With other people,” She turns to look at Deanna now, and her skin is still flushed with anxiety but there's seriousness in her eyes. “I never get to thank you.”

“You don't _need_ to thank me.”

“Yes, I do,” she murmurs, and Deanna's pulse picks up as she watches Tasha's gaze soften into something unredeable.

“ _La Forge to Troi, the turbolift should be active again, problem was a power coupling had gone offline,_ ” Geordi's voice comes from her comm link. Deanna comes back to herself, hand slipping from Tasha's as she presses her comm badge, “Acknowledged. Thank you Geordi.”

“Deck seven,” says Tasha, and the turbolift starts moving again. They stand together in stilted silence until the turbolift comes to a stop, and when the door opens Tasha turns to her, apology in her voice. “I have to go back to work, I'm still technically on duty for another fifteen minutes.”

“It's fine,” says Deanna.

Tasha stands there for a moment or two like she's debating something with herself, and then she leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says quietly, sincerely and then turns and walks briskly down the corridor.

“You're welcome,” Deanna smiles at her retreating back.  


End file.
